Running With Scissors
by Aki T
Summary: Inuyasha Ikeda has always played it safe--but when he finds himself dying of leukemia with six months left to live, it'll take Death, Love, and a lonely girl named Kagome to help him discover happiness. InuKag, MirSan AU R&R! (HIATUS)
1. Playing It Safe

Running With Scissors  
  
Disclaimer – I don't own Inuyasha or the play "Running With Scissors". Just this fic. Oh well.  
  
Author's Note – HIII! I'm back with a new, terrible work of art for you people! =D This is based loosely off of the play, "Running With Scissors", that my friend Liz saw and told me about. Cute story — enjoy!  
  
Character guide:  
  
Inuyasha Ikeda – main character; a quiet, subdued young man who is afraid to take risks in life, and is also dying of leukemia.  
  
Kagome Higurashi – the proprietor of a run-down inn who is caring for her dying grandfather; a poor girl trying to manage her grandfather and her business at the same time  
  
Kouga Yamazaki – the only employee at Kagome's inn; he fancies Kagome and dislikes Inuyasha almost immediately  
  
Miroku "Death" Kikuchi – literally, Death; he is the one who is supposed to take Inuyasha's life; a wise-cracking, punk-ish pervert  
  
Sango "Love" Hiraki – literally, Love; she is the one who controls all of the world's love, and also wishes for Inuyasha to suck it up, take a risk, and admit his feelings for Kagome; and Love is blind – literally.  
  
REVIEW, DAMMIT!  
  
On with the show!  
  
***  
  
Chapter One – Playing It Safe  
  
***  
  
Inuyasha Ikeda has never been in love; he's always played it safe. He followed the rules, always coloured in the lines, and never once ran with scissors.  
  
It was always Inuyasha's dream to become a writer, but that was too risky. He took the logical route and became an editor instead – editors make a steady salary and don't ever end up living in cardboard boxes, right?  
  
And so, Inuyasha buried his passion of writing for good, and he never dug it up . . .  
  
Until the day Death came . . .  
  
~  
  
Leukemia.  
  
The word rang through his mind as he pulled to a stop on the red light. He shifted his gaze to the car window, seeing his own scared, tired reflection staring back at him. It was at this time he noticed how ill he seemed to be; his long, black hair that usually shone was now looking dull and limp, and his brilliant violet eyes were heavy with a lack of sleep and a glint of fear.  
  
The light changed to green and Inuyasha turned the corner, in the opposite direction of his house. He drove a few more blocks and at last found himself on a wide, empty dirt road. With a heavy sigh, he lowered his head a bit, trying to collect his thoughts.  
  
"Dr. Kaede said I only have six months," he murmured to himself with a frown. "Only six more months . . ."  
  
He glanced out the window again, tumbleweeds brushing past the edges of the road, gusts of wind sending grains of dirt and sand hurtling against the car windows and doors.  
  
Turning his eyes back to the windshield, he blinked. Skidding to a halt, he narrowed his eyes, peering through the tinted glass at the figure ahead.  
  
A tall, shadowy young man stood a few feet away from the car. His dark black hair was pulled back into a short ponytail, and he was clad in a long black shirt and baggy black jeans. Silver chains hung on either side of his waist, and he was clutching a long, staff-like object that had a thin, sharp blade attached to the end of it, the silver colour flashing in the afternoon sun.  
  
The figure lifted his free hand and jerked his thumb in the direction that Inuyasha's car was facing. He grinned at him, approaching the car swiftly.  
  
Inuyasha gulped, slowly rolling down the window so as to speak to him.  
  
"M-may I help you?"  
  
"I hope so," the young man said, a most peculiar grin plastered on his smooth face. "You goin' my way or not?" He jerked his thumb again.  
  
A nervous expression passed Inuyasha's face, and he hesitantly unlocked the door.  
  
"I-I guess so . . . you need a ride?"  
  
"Sure do," the man said, his grin widening as he opened the door to the passenger side, clambering inside. With a jolt of fear, Inuyasha noticed that the man locked the door after he'd climbed in.  
  
The man chuckled sarcastically at Inuyasha's expression.  
  
"Can never be too safe, now, can we?"  
  
Inuyasha shook his head, twitching. "No . . . I guess not." He cleared his throat, starting the car again with shaking hands. "M-my name is — "  
  
"Inuyasha Ikeda," he finished for him, grinning again.  
  
Inuyasha's violet eyes widened again and the car screeched to a halt once more.  
  
"H-how the HELL did you know that?!"  
  
The man simply grinned at him again. "Well, I've just been told that you're supposed to die in six months. And everyone who's dying, I know about . . .  
  
You seem so afraid, Inuyasha. I'm sorry. Allow me to introduce myself. Miroku Kikuchi, A.K.A. Death, at your service. And I'm terribly sorry to inform you that six months is coming a bit sooner than you think." 


	2. Stranded

Running With Scissors  
  
Disclaimer - Inuyasha belongs to Rumiko Takahashi. Running With Scissors, the play, belongs to Michael McKeever. Death is hot. So is Miroku. God, I want him . . .  
  
Author's Note - Wow! People seem to like this! I actually have reviews from people I don't know! XD It's a freakin' miracle. Thank the gods.  
  
***  
  
Chapter Two - Stranded  
  
***  
  
Inuyasha's eye twitched.  
  
"Okay, let me get this straight," he said slowly, "you're, what, death?"  
  
"Death with a capital D," the young man called Miroku answered with another grin. "Your very own Angel of Darkness, here to escort you to the Netherworld! Now, chop chop. Come on, I ain't got all day here, pal! There's a guy in Acapulco who's supposed to have a heart attack in fifteen minutes from eating too much salsa. Let's go."  
  
"Wait, wait," Inuyasha said quickly, holding up his hand. "Listen to me, pal, Dr. Kaede said that I have SIX MONTHS left to live. It's only been half an hour! Now what the HELL is this really about? Are you some freaky salesperson or something?"  
  
Miroku's grin only widened. "Do salesman carry scythes?" He waved around the staff-like object for emphasis, pointing the blade towards him.  
  
Inuyasha backed away against the door. "N-no."  
  
"That's what I thought. Now, you comin' or not?"  
  
"N-no!" Inuyasha said, a bit firmer. "I want to finish up these six months, dammit!"  
  
"Too bad," Miroku replied in a bored voice, tracing the edge of the scythe with his finger. "I'm supposed to take you now, not in six months. Come on, dude, you're puttin' my job on the line, here! This is my duty! If I don't take you within the next ten minutes, I gotta deal with the boss! I'll - I'll lose my JOB!" Miroku's dark brown eyes widened and he grabbed Inuyasha by the shoulders, shaking him fiercely. "HOW CAN I SUPPORT MY WIFE AND KIDS IF I DON'T HAVE A JOB?! HUH?! TELL ME!"  
  
Inuyasha raised an eyebrow. "Death has a wife and kids?"  
  
Miroku's shoulders slumped and he shoved Inuyasha away. "No," he mumbled. "She said she wouldn't marry me 'cause it'd interfere with her job . . ."  
  
"Who's she?" Inuyasha asked, starting up the car again as he pulled back onto the dirt road.  
  
"No one," Miroku answered quickly, his grin back in place. "Welp, if you're not ready to die, then fine. YOU face the boss. I'll just tell him it's his fault."  
  
"Wh-who's the boss?"  
  
"El Diablo," he replied, stressing the words, accenting them. His grin widened. "That's right . . . fire and brimstone; a world of souls whirling in their own misery . . . it's a really nice place, actually. Good vacation spot."  
  
Inuyasha shuddered. "So . . . when I do die, I'm going to Hell?"  
  
"Nah." Miroku shrugged it off, tilting his head. "No, you're headed up to that 'oh-mighty-one' . . . ya know . . . God. You deserve it . . . what with bein' a goody-two-shoes an' all . . ."  
  
Inuyasha stiffened. "I am NOT a goody-two-shoes."  
  
"Sure, kid, whatever ya say. Look, where're we goin', anyway? Don't forget, I gotta take care of that guy in Acapulco, remember?"  
  
"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Inuyasha muttered back, his eyes concentrated on the dusty road before him.  
  
"So . . ." Miroku began. "You're a quiet guy. Never took a risk in your life, didja? What's up with that?"  
  
Inuyasha shrugged. "It's just the way I've always been. Play it safe, and no one gets hurt."  
  
"Yawn - boring!" Miroku exclaimed, punching his shoulder. "You gotta have a little FUN, man! I mean, gods, you've probably never even seduced a girl, have ya?"  
  
Inuyasha's eyes widened and he glared at Miroku. "That's a disgusting thing to say! I-I would NEVER treat a woman like that!"  
  
"Yeah, whatever," Miroku said, faking a yawn. "I didn't come here for a morality speech, got it? I get enough of that crap from San - " He stopped in mid-sentence, sighing heavily.  
  
"Who?" Inuyasha prompted again. "Who is this person that you're so uninclined to talk about?"  
  
"It's nobody," Miroku mumbled, tensing as he shifted his gaze to the road that sped past him. "Just drop it."  
  
The car suddenly gave a great jolt and the engine sputtered, slowing them to a stop. Inuyasha cursed under his breath and got out, lifting the hood, only to have a great black cloud of smoke surround his face.  
  
He coughed, waving a hand to clear the soot, peering at the engine.  
  
"Dead battery," he muttered, slamming down the hood.  
  
Miroku's grin widened again. "Hm . . . DEAD battery . . . what a shame."  
  
Inuyasha glared. "What, did you kill the battery or somethin'?"  
  
"Who, me? I would NEVER!"  
  
Inuyasha narrowed his eyes at him before sighing, looking around as Miroku got out on the other side.  
  
"Looks like we're stranded," Miroku said cheerfully.  
  
"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Inuyasha snapped, folding his arms as he leaned against the car door. "So now what?"  
  
"Don't look at me, I'm just an undertaker!"  
  
Inuyasha rolled his eyes and scanned the deserted area around them. He suddenly pointed in the distance to a small building, barely visible on the horizon.  
  
"Look, there's something out there! Maybe there's someone who can help us," Inuyasha mused, tilting his head.  
  
"Well, come on then," Miroku said, straightening up to his full height, which Inuyasha noticed, was much taller than his own. Shielded by the setting sun, his dark features and solid black clothes made him look menacing against the reddish-orange light.  
  
"Hey, Daydreamer, you comin' or not?" Miroku asked, snapping Inuyasha out of his thoughts as he watched him jog along, trying to follow in his wake of destruction and death.  
  
~  
  
When the pair finally reached the building, they found it to be a small, brown, cottage-like structure. A rusty sign that squeaked every time the wind blew hung above the porch, reading, "Higurashi Bed And Breakfast."  
  
Inuyasha and Miroku pushed open the heavy door together, peering inside.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"I'll be with you in a moment," a young, female voice called from behind the counter, invisible.  
  
The two made their way into the small room, leaning against the wall beside the counter. After a minute, a young, beautiful woman appeared from the other side of the desk, smiling warmly at the two.  
  
Inuyasha's jaw dropped. The girl's eyes were large and brown, shimmering with a mixture of loneliness and regret. Her dark black hair cascaded down her shoulders and onto her back, framing her face perfectly. Her dark green dress was long and simple, and a dirtied white apron hung around her waist. She bowed graciously at her guests, making her way behind the counter, opening a large, dusty book.  
  
"Names?"  
  
"Er . . . names?" Inuyasha asked, confused.  
  
The girl smiled, making Inuyasha shudder under her gaze. "Yes, names. This is a bed and breakfast. You DID come here because you need a place to stay, right?"  
  
"No," Miroku spoke up, "we came because THIS idiot's car broke down and we were hoping you could help."  
  
The girl shook her head, still smiling. "I'm afraid there's nothing I can do, except call a tow truck to help you get back home. But, seeing as we're in the middle of nowhere, that might take a while. So, why not rest here until then?"  
  
Inuyasha shrugged, nodding. "Yeah . . . that sounds good," he said breathlessly, his eyes never leaving the girl's face.  
  
"Excellent," she chirped, her smile never faltering. "Now, let's try this again. Names, PLEASE."  
  
"Miroku Kikuchi," Miroku grinned, bowing. "Pleased to meet you."  
  
"Inuyasha Ikeda," Inuyasha muttered, suddenly shy as he lowered his head.  
  
The girl scribbled down the names in the book. "Very well. I'll put you two in room four. I think it should suffice." She snatched a rusty brass key from a pegboard beside her, motioning for them to follow her into the dark hallway.  
  
For a few moments none of them spoke as they wandered down the empty hall, stopping at the end of the corridor. The girl unlocked a door with a rusted number 4 digit on the front of it, showing them inside.  
  
"These rooms aren't much, but they work just fine," she said nervously, gesturing around quickly before letting her arm fall to her side. "It's five dollars a night, and there's meals served at the appropriate times every day. Make yourselves comfortable."  
  
Inuyasha and Miroku both nodded, glancing around for themselves. Miroku's hands were shoved casually into the pockets of his baggy jeans, and Inuyasha's arms were folded across his chest, surveying the room with his eyes silently.  
  
The girl spoke up again,  
  
"And if you need anything, my name is Kagome. Kagome Higurashi." 


	3. Memoirs

Running With Scissors  
  
Disclaimer - I own Miroku. That's right. He's mine. Don't try to deny it! MUAHAHAHA!! Ahem. Sorry.  
  
Author's Note - I'm moving quickly with this fic. Don't ask why; I just feel the need to post as much as possible BEFORE I leave for winter break. Hey, don't complain. I'm doin' this for you guys.  
  
***  
  
Chapter Three - Memoirs  
  
***  
  
Miroku paced slowly, the chains around his waist clinking with every movement as he glanced over at the hunched figure leaning over the creaky desk. He sighed.  
  
"What are you doing, anyway?"  
  
"Writing," Inuyasha murmured in response, not looking up.  
  
"What are you writing?" Miroku attempted to peer over Inuyasha's shoulder, tilting his head.  
  
"Nothing," Inuyasha said hastily, slamming the notepad he was writing on shut. "None of your business."  
  
"Ah, something personal? Perhaps, a diary?" Miroku grinned in a sadistic manner. "Maybe it's filled with sick, erotic thoughts of yours? You know, the ones you were probably having at breakfast this morning, when you were staring oh-so-obviously at Miss Kagome?"  
  
Inuyasha tensed; he stood quickly, his eyes flashing at Miroku. "I'm not a filthy pervert like you. Now leave me alone."  
  
"My, touchy, touchy, aren't we?" Miroku hissed coolly, leaning against his scythe casually. "That's how everyone gets before they die. The slightest little thing irritates them to no end; poor, foolish things."  
  
"What ARE you, anyway?" Inuyasha asked, whirling around to face Miroku, his violet eyes glaring at him. "What IS Death? Are you a human? Or some kind of animal? Are you even mortal?"  
  
"No, no, and no," Miroku replied in a bored manner, cracking his neck. "I'm a god. An immortal servant to the King of Death himself. I live in the Netherworld with other office workers. We all generally exist for one simple purpose - to serve the gods. Me, now I chose to serve the God of Death. Other people, like . . . well, others work for different gods, like . . . like the Goddess of Love." He suddenly fell silent, his left eye twitching a bit. He cleared his throat and went on.  
  
"Now, every once in a while, there's a god or goddess servant who's different from the others. These people become the actual thing that they work for or represent - in my case, I was one of the 'special' ones, and I became Death itself. Other people . . . like . . ." He sighed, frustrated. "Other people can become . . . well . . . like an old friend of mine. She . . . she worked as a servant for the Goddess of Love. The one who was originally Love got too old for the job, and my . . . friend . . . she got promoted to being Love." He finished his sentence very quickly, turning away.  
  
Inuyasha's eyes softened a bit, and he gently touched Miroku's shoulder. "Who's 'she,' Miroku? I know there was someone, so why won't you talk about it?"  
  
Miroku sighed heavily, shoving Inuyasha's hand away. "I dunno what you're talkin' about . . . there was no one. I've always been . . . alone."  
  
He straightened up to his full height again, dusting off his shoulder as he headed for the door.  
  
"Finish your memoirs, Inuyasha. You're writing YOUR life story, not mine."  
  
~  
  
Inuyasha took Miroku's advice and continued writing for several more hours during the day before finally setting his pen down, stretching. He sighed, yawning as he opened the door to the hallway, the smell of dinner cooking wafting into his senses as he wandered into the main room.  
  
Kagome stood hunched over an old stove, stirring a pot of thick stew. The afternoon sun streamed through the window, lighting up her dark hair, and Inuyasha actually had to stop in the doorway to catch his breath. He cleared his throat, causing Kagome's head to snap up in surprise, before she let out a sigh of relief, smiling kindly.  
  
"Well, good afternoon, Mr. Ikeda," she said softly, straightening up. "How are you feeling today? You were cooped up in that room for an awfully long time."  
  
"F-feeling?" Inuyasha stuttered, blinking.  
  
"Yes . . . didn't Mr. Kikuchi mention last night at dinner that you're dying? That's such a terrible shame . . ."  
  
Inuyasha made a mental note to strangle Miroku the next chance he got. "Uh . . . yeah," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "I'm . . . I'm real sick. I have leukemia. The doctor said I have six months left to live."  
  
"You poor thing," Kagome whispered slowly, her eyes lowered. "My grandfather is dying too . . . he has heart cancer. He doesn't have much longer to live either." She sighed heavily. "I must admit, I'm grateful to have guests. We don't have many guests, so income is low . . . this place is so old, and it's hard to keep up with the mortgage sometimes. I just don't know what I'm going to do."  
  
Inuyasha nodded slowly, unable to think of anything intelligent or comforting to say. He shoved his hands in his pockets so as to stop their nervous fidgeting, never once removing his eyes from her face.  
  
"Miss Kagome," he said slowly, stepping towards her a bit, "you're very beautiful, you know."  
  
Kagome's hand froze halfway to the pot of stew, her wondrous brown eyes widening in shock as she slowly looked up to him, blushing. "Th-thank you, Mr. Ikeda," she stuttered, blinking.  
  
"Please . . . just call me Inuyasha."  
  
~  
  
"Don't you see?" Miroku pressed on, shaking Inuyasha's shoulders so as to prove his point. "You've NEVER taken a risk! You've NEVER done anything FUN or EXCITING with your life! Just DIE, already! It's better than life! Trust me!"  
  
"Miroku," Inuyasha began with a heavy sigh, "if I asked you to take me to the Netherworld, then you wouldn't be the one killing me. I'd be committing suicide, and there would be no murder for you to see through. What would your boss say about that?"  
  
"What is suicide but murder to thyself?" Miroku murmured, looking away. "You're killing yourself - it technically IS a murder. It just wasn't done by me."  
  
Inuyasha rolled his eyes. "You're desperate, aren't you?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
He sighed again, sitting down on the bed. "And for your information, I DO take risks. I just took one this afternoon, in fact."  
  
"Oh? What did you do?" Miroku asked, suddenly curious to see a calmer, more relaxed side of Inuyasha.  
  
"I . . ." he frowned. "I just told Kagome that she was pretty, that's all. Nothing big."  
  
"NOTHING BIG?" Miroku repeated, his jaw dropping. "Inuyasha, that's so - out there! Especially for you. That was a BIG risk. What'd she say?"  
  
"She just said thanks," Inuyasha mumbled, lowering his eyes. "Why would she care, anyway? I'm probably just a wandering low-life to her."  
  
"Maybe so, but what do YOU feel for her, Inuyasha?" Miroku urged, nudging him.  
  
"I don't know . . . I just met her. What more do you want?"  
  
Miroku shook his head and sighed. "It's a waste of time anyway. You're still gonna die - don't think I let you off the hook."  
  
"Yeah, I know," Inuyasha grumbled, folding his arms. "I guess that's why it's pointless for me to be in love with her."  
  
"Did someone say 'love'?" a female voice boomed, echoing through the tiny room. Miroku's eyes widened and he winced, cowering behind Inuyasha, who was too shocked to move.  
  
A great, red light shone through the room, blinding them, sending the papers on the old desk flying. A few moments passed and a shapely figure began to form, appearing through the light before them.  
  
The light ceased and Inuyasha looked up with wide eyes. A tall, young- looking woman with long, dark, curly hair blooming with red ribbons and flowers stood before him, clad in a form-fitting red dress with ruffles at the collar and sleeves. Bright red Converse-heels topped off her ensemble, and in her hands was a red walking stick. Inuyasha finally met her eyes, only to see that a pair of dark sunglasses hid her eyes from view.  
  
"Well, don't just sit there, boy," the young woman ordered, tapping Inuyasha's head with her cane. "You said the word love, and it's my duty to help poor, love-struck fools like yourselves to find happiness . . . or whatever. So who are you?"  
  
"Um . . . Inuyasha Ikeda?"  
  
"Nice to meet you, Inuyasha. So, what's the case?"  
  
"Um," Inuyasha began, "might I ask . . . er . . . who you are?"  
  
"Oh, silly me!" The woman laughed. "Sango Hiraki, A.K.A. Love, at your service, Mr. Ikeda." 


	4. Love and Death

Running With Scissors  
  
Disclaimer - I don't own Inuyasha, and I don't own RWS. But the flashback scene that is this chapter is entirely my idea. Don't steal!  
  
Author's Note - Whoo! Okay, new chapter to ring in the New Year! Even though I don't have as many reviews as I'd like, the ones that I DO have are all very positive, so I'd like to thank those who did take the time to review my pathetic excuse for a fanfic. ^_^  
  
Author's Second Note - This ENTIRE chapter is a flashback. This chapter explains the whole story between Sango and Miroku; also, this is not in the play in any way, shape, or form. In the play, Love and Death have no past, secret relationship - they just flirt a lot. But in this story, I decided to increase the angst by giving the two their own little past to go with the main plot. So, if you ever do happen to see the play, Running With Scissors, and don't hear anything about this past relationship, that's because . . . well . . . it didn't exist. Enjoy!  
  
***  
  
Chapter Four - Love and Death  
  
***  
  
"Uh, let's see. Hmm. Izumi Toyoshima and Akihiro Fujita. Both 23 years of age. Met in high school. Now work and live together. Pass or fail?"  
  
Sango Hiraki read off what had been written on the form in front of her, frowning. "Ai-sama? Do they pass or not?"  
  
Ai-sama, a beautiful young woman with jet-black hair with pink and red streaks, who wore a dark pink dress and wore sunglasses and carried a cane, smiled kindly.  
  
"Toyoshima and Fujita? I've been following that relationship for years now, Hiraki. Of course they're in love. Put it in the 'pass' pile."  
  
Sango nodded and set the form aside, in a plastic bin labeled 'pass'. She sighed, picking up another one.  
  
"Kyoko Miyajima and Yuutaro Iwata. Miyajima is 25, Iwata is 28 . . . met through an . . . online dating service?"  
  
"Doomed to fail," Ai-sama answered immediately. "Tch . . . online romances. Never work. Put it in the 'fail' pile."  
  
Sango Hiraki was first assistant to Ai-sama, the Goddess of Love. Her dark brown hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, the length of it traveling down her shoulder. She sighed, scanning the many piles of forms cluttered onto her desk, filled with information about couples in Japan, half of which were doomed to fail anyway.  
  
Sango found it ironic that she had been born as a love-goddess when she didn't even believe in love in the first place. It was a stupid, pointless emotion that had no room in Sango's own life, and she usually scoffed at the stories that Ai-sama told her about successful relationships that she had helped form.  
  
So, she never believed in love. She'd lived her whole life training as a love-goddess, and she'd been working for Ai-sama since she was fifteen. Now at a ripe age of nineteen, Sango still insisted on avoiding men and relationships, for the sake of keeping her own heart at safety.  
  
But THIS couldn't be avoided . . .  
  
The enticing glint of promise and pleasure . . .  
  
Held within the eyes of a young death-god, Miroku Kikuchi . . .  
  
Sango shuddered just thinking about it. The entire system that was the family tree of gods and goddesses was all centered in one main office building. The offices for the Love department and the Death department were right next door to each other, though Sango tended to steer clear of the Death office. Fire and brimstone wasn't her thing . . . plus the Death-God himself, Shi-sama, scared her to . . . well . . . death.  
  
But lately, Ai-sama had been sending Sango on errands back and forth between the two offices, so she was forced to experience more and more of the darkness and depression that was the Death office. She could hardly forget the first day that she'd set foot in there . . .  
  
And the first time that their eyes had met . . .  
  
@------  
  
She peered into the main room of the Death office, shuddering. The walls were painted a messy black colour, with blood-red borders and crooked sign that hung on the door across the hallway: "Shi-sama will see you 500 years after your death. Please wait in the main lobby."  
  
She frowned and twitched, hesitantly stepping into the small room.  
  
"Um . . . hello? S-Shi-sama? Anyone? Uh . . . message for Shi-sama, from Ai- sama! Hello?"  
  
"Be with you in a moment!" A young, male voice shouted from the other side of the door. There was a short pause and then a blood-curling scream sounded, echoing around the small room, and the swing of a scythe was heard. A few moments later, the door creaked open, and a thin trail of blood slid onto the black carpet, the dim light above her reflecting it dully.  
  
"Can I help you?"  
  
She lifted her head and gasped. The face of a young, handsome man stared back at her, blood dripping from his stringy, jet-black hair, sliding onto the shoulder of his baggy black t-shirt. In his right hand was a long, thin staff that sported a silver, bloodstained blade on the end of it.  
  
He grinned at her cheerfully. "Shi-sama can't see anyone else right now," he said, "but I'm his assistant. You have a message for him?"  
  
She nodded hesitantly. "Yes . . . just give this to him." She handed him a folded piece of paper. "It's from Ai-sama." She turned, reaching for the doorknob.  
  
"Ai-sama, huh?" he mused, making her stop. "You work in the Love department, then?"  
  
She nodded again, slowly turning on her heel to face him again. "Yeah, I do. What of it?"  
  
"It just seems to suit you, that's all," he answered, stretching casually. "Such a beautiful woman working to create such a beautiful thing . . . it just seems . . . natural, I guess."  
  
Her heart stopped. "Beautiful? Are you talking about me?"  
  
"Who else would I be talking to?" he replied with a cocky grin. "No one else is in the room right now, nor have I ever laid eyes on a beauty like yourself before."  
  
She gulped, blushing. "Uh . . ." she laughed nervously. "I should be going now . . . you know . . . places to go, people to see, things to do."  
  
"I know what you mean," he concurred, indicating his scythe. "Though, in my case, it's more like, places to go, people to kill, files to fill out."  
  
She laughed dryly. "I see . . . um . . . I'll be going now."  
  
"Right."  
  
She reached for the doorknob again, pausing only to glance back at him once.  
  
"I'm Sango, by the way. Sango Hiraki."  
  
"Miroku Kikuchi," he answered evenly. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sango."  
  
@------  
  
Sango sighed wearily, rubbing her head. It ached to think of the conversations she'd had with Miroku. It had almost seemed as though she was doing the one thing she swore she'd never do.  
  
Fall in love.  
  
She frowned, standing and crossing the room to her dresser. The walls were painted a darker shade of red, with matching sheets on her bed and a fluffy pink pillow. The dresser and bed frame were made out of dark, rich polished wood, and on the dresser stood an assortment of red, white and pink candles, all of which were burnt down to the last of their wicks. ((Like all my candles. Heh.))  
  
Sighing frustratedly, she dug through her dresser drawers, finally grabbing hold of the small plastic bottle. She opened it and two Aspirin spilled out onto her outstretched palm, and she downed them quickly, rubbing her head again.  
  
"Kikuchi . . . damn you for the pain you cause my heart . . ."  
  
She laughed bitterly to herself.  
  
"Love sucks."  
  
~  
  
Miroku Kikuchi had been a servant to the God of Death for most of his life. And he never once complained. Sure, the paperwork sucked, but all jobs had paperwork. The best part was the killing. Using his scythe was like a hobby to him now; the sound of innocent screams and the sight of blood always put a grin on his face.  
  
Having just celebrated his twentieth birthday, Miroku was looking forward to getting new privileges and he'd even heard from a co-worker that Shi- sama was going to be retired soon, and that he wanted Miroku as the new Death-God.  
  
And it was on this day, his twentieth birthday and his soon-to-be promotion, that he met the woman of his dreams . . .  
  
Sango Hiraki . . .  
  
@------  
  
He'd been shuffling around in the back, trying to find the form for a certain Chiemi Kamamoto, a 67-year-old woman from Osaka who was dying of heart cancer. He pulled open a drawer, rifling through its contents and pulling out the sheet of paper, scanning it with a click of his tongue.  
  
"Loving husband, three kids with successful careers, stable finances, decent house in Kansai . . . what a shame. Cancer's a bitch," he muttered to himself, slinking into a back room that was lined with chairs, each one occupied by sickly-looking elders or people who'd suffered terrible death injuries, from things like fires or car accidents.  
  
"Kamamoto?" he called, looking around. "Chiemi Kamamoto?"  
  
The elder woman glanced up, trembling with fright.  
  
"My time to die . . . I knew it was coming anyway," she managed to say, holding back sobs.  
  
He rolled his eyes and signaled her to follow him. "Right this way, Mrs. Kamamoto."  
  
He heard the sound of someone calling from the front entrance, and he swore under his breath. He didn't like to get distracted during work. "Be with you in a moment!" he called loudly, leading Mrs. Kamamoto into a separate room.  
  
There were no lights, no chairs, no furniture or decorations of any kind. The only thing besides him and the old woman that stood in the room was a black coffin, which was barely visible in the dark.  
  
"Mrs. Kamamoto, please, make yourself comfortable." He indicated towards the coffin, grinning.  
  
The old woman nodded heavily and climbed into it, laying back and staring at the ceiling blankly.  
  
"Tell my husband and children that I said good-bye," she whispered in a hollow voice. "Please?"  
  
"Sorry, no can do," he answered, his smile disappearing for a moment as he swung his scythe down upon her.  
  
Only screams and blood splattering filled his ears, and his grin returned. He sighed happily, muttering a small prayer before leaving the room.  
  
He sauntered back into the hallway, leaving a small trail of blood as he went, slowly opening the door to the lobby.  
  
"Can I help you?"  
  
He looked up to see a gorgeous young woman, who gasped at his appearance, eyes wide.  
  
"Shi-sama can't see anyone else right now," he said, "but I'm his assistant. You have a message for him?"  
  
She seemed to be saying something as she handed him a piece of paper, but he was hardly listening. His eyes scanned her face, her eyes, her hair . . . her filled-out chest, her well-toned abdomen, her slender legs . . . a grin twitched at the corner of his lips as he responded to her statements in an almost automatic voice, not even hearing what he was saying to her. He remembered calling her beautiful, earning him a blush, but it was when she finally stated her name that he snapped to.  
  
"I'm Sango, by the way. Sango Hiraki."  
  
"Miroku Kikuchi. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sango."  
  
~  
  
They'd moved in together exactly one month later, and Sango's dislike towards the emotion of love was slowly waning. Currently, the two of them were curled up on the couch in their home, the TV on, playing a commercial, though neither paid much attention.  
  
She snuggled closer to him, and he draped his arm over her shoulder, nuzzling her neck. She shivered and giggled slightly when he began to lick and kiss her skin.  
  
"Miroku . . . stop," she managed to say, her face flushed with embarrassment.  
  
The young death-god grinned. It was only a few weeks ago that the rumour had been confirmed, and Miroku was promoted to becoming the God of Death, and he wore the title proudly.  
  
"Oh, is something wrong, koishii?" Miroku purred, his hands tracing over her shoulders, down the sides of her chest and to her waist. Sango tilted her head back and shuddered, closing her eyes lightly.  
  
"I have some news," she murmured, shifting to meet his gaze again, her eyes flickering with what seemed to be sadness. "Oh? What is it?" Miroku sat up and looked down at her, unaware of her discomfort with the news.  
  
"Well . . ." she paused, sighing heavily. "You remember when Shi-sama retired last month, and you became the new Death God?"  
  
He nodded slowly. "What about it?"  
  
"Well," she continued, "the same thing is happening with Ai-sama . . . she's getting to old to do the job, and . . ." she paused, sighing heavily. "I'm supposed to be the new Love Goddess."  
  
Miroku blinked, smiling. "Well, that's great news! Why do you seem upset?"  
  
Sango stood and turned away from him, covering her eyes to hide the tears.  
  
"You wouldn't want a blind woman," she muttered, avoiding his gaze.  
  
He blinked again. "Oh . . . that? Sango, I don't care if you're blind . . . I'd love you no matter what . . ."  
  
"That's not it, Miroku!" She whirled around, and he gasped at her tears. "The policy is that The Goddess of Love handles all of the love lives in the world, except her own! I'm not allowed to be in love after this! I . . . I can't be with you anymore!"  
  
Realization slowly dawned on Miroku and his eyes went blank as he rushed forward and gathered Sango into his arms, kissing her and shushing her. He stroked her cheek lightly and she melted into his grip, sobbing into chest.  
  
"There's no other choice," she murmured into his t-shirt. "I have to do the job . . . if I don't . . ." she trailed off, the tears coming harder as she clung to him, burying her face in his shoulder.  
  
Miroku frowned, glancing down at her. "Will you stay with me . . . one last time?"  
  
Sango looked up to meet his eyes, her heart melting in her chest. "Of course I will, Miroku."  
  
~  
  
That night was the most memorable she'd ever had. Granted, their sex was always good, but that night held more longing and passion then ever before. Which is why she slowly felt her heart breaking as she stood from the bed, glancing down at the sleeping Miroku, silent.  
  
She sauntered over to her dresser, took out all of the clothes and shoved them into her suitcase, then placed all of her trinkets in a separate bag. She got dressed quickly, tying back her hair and glimpsing at her watch.  
  
It was only 7:00. She frowned, sighing as she slowly made her way back over to Miroku, kneeling beside him.  
  
"I don't want to leave you, koishii," Sango murmured, reaching out to brush the hair out of his eyes. "But you know I have to . . ." she trailed off, tears blurring her vision again. She bent down and crushed her lips to his, causing him to wake and return her kiss equally.  
  
She pulled away quickly, gazing down at him, tears sliding down her cheeks. She bent down to pick up her bags, her eyes never leaving his.  
  
"Good-bye, Miroku," she whispered, turning on her heel and disappearing from the room.  
  
"Good-bye, Sango," Miroku said to himself, hanging his head as he lay back on the bed, drifting into a light sleep with dreams of only Sango. 


	5. Competition

Running With Scissors  
  
Disclaimer – I don't own Inuyasha and co. I just own their DVDs and three of their shirts.  
  
Author's Note – I am so terribly sorry for the huge wait! Really, people . . . I've been going through a lot of shit. Just ask any of my friends. But, I got a spare night today, and it's Spring Break, so I might as well get this done. Enjoy! ^_^  
  
P.S. – This chapter is dedicated to one of my reviewers, Miyu6, because of her understanding and support. Thanks, Miyu-chan!  
  
***  
  
Chapter Five – Competition  
  
***  
  
Miroku's violet eyes widened and he cowered behind Inuyasha, shuddering as Sango smiled innocently – her blindness causing her to overlook the young Death God's presence.  
  
"Inuyasha," she spoke up, "I'm sorry to have startled you. Once again, my name is Sango Hiraki, and I am the Goddess of Love. So, who's the lucky woman?"  
  
Silence.  
  
"Um . . . Inuyasha? Hello?" Sango turned her head in all directions, feeling around with her cane. "Where'd you go?"  
  
"Over here," the tired-eyed boy answered from the corner. "He won't stop cowering in fear . . ."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Miroku."  
  
Sango stopped dead in her tracks, her entire body tensing.  
  
"Miroku . . . as in . . . the God of Death." The question came out as a bland statement.  
  
Inuyasha nodded, then, remembering she couldn't see, answered. "Yeah. Kikuchi, I think."  
  
Miroku coughed, his eye twitching as he looked away. "Yo."  
  
The Love Goddess turned away from them, lowering her head. "Inuyasha . . . are you dying?"  
  
"Uh-huh."  
  
Sango nodded. "I see." She straightened up, composing herself as she turned and smiled brightly. "Well, then! Let's get this love thing rolling so you won't have to follow Death!"  
  
"Hold up a moment!" Miroku shouted in protest, standing quickly, knocking the chair aside. "I had him first! He's gonna die whether you like it or not!"  
  
The brown-haired girl smiled bitterly in the direction of his voice. "Well, we'll have to see about that, won't we, Kikuchi?"  
  
Miroku backed away, eyeing her suspiciously. "When did you become so . . . evil?"  
  
Sango laughed rather coldly. "Evil? No, no, YOU'RE the evil one, Mr. Death God. I'm simply doing my job."  
  
"Your 'job' ruined my life!"  
  
The Goddess growled, clenching her fist. "Well, how d'ya think I feel?! I never wanted to be a stupid Love Goddess! I didn't want to leave you that morning, but it's not like I had any choice, ya know!"  
  
Inuyasha blinked. "Do you two know each other?"  
  
Miroku turned away, folding his arms across his chest firmly. "Never met her in my life."  
  
"How DARE you!" Sango screeched, chucking her red cane at the Death God's head. "After everything we shared, you have the nerve to say that you don't know me?!"  
  
He growled, tossing the cane back to her, which she caught on reflex, huffing. Miroku twitched, simply falling silent as he rubbed his head, wincing.  
  
"So, your temper got worse, huh?"  
  
"Hey, you try dealing with 20 million pathetic lovebirds every friggin' day."  
  
"Not lovebirds. Dead people."  
  
"You're such a freak."  
  
"That's my job."  
  
Sango clenched her fist again. "So, you think your job's harder than mine, huh?"  
  
"Yeah, pretty much."  
  
"Fine." She crossed her arms in a pouting manner. "I'll make you a deal. Whoever convinces this young man to follow them by the end of six months will get 3000 ((about 300 American dollars)) yen from the loser."  
  
"It's a deal."  
  
Inuyasha buried his head in his hands. "Why do I have a bad feeling about this . . . ?"  
  
~  
  
Later that evening, Inuyasha and Miroku entered the kitchen, with Sango following close behind, feeling her way around with her cane. They sat down at the table and Kagome glanced at them from the stove, smiling.  
  
"Hello, everyone. Dinner's just about ready." She picked up a large pot of soup and set it on the table. "Oh, who's this?"  
  
Inuyasha smiled back at her. "This is Sango, a friend of Miroku's. She'll be staying with us."  
  
Miroku grumbled something about not being friends, only to yelp in pain after Sango's foot connected sharply with his knee under the table.  
  
Kagome giggled, setting another pot down on the table before taking a seat next to Inuyasha. She focused her gaze on Sango. "So, Miss Sango, what brings you way out here?"  
  
Sango blinked, trying to follow the direction of Kagome's voice. "Oh, you know. Just passing through. So, are you the one who Inuyasha lo – "  
  
Inuyasha coughed loudly. "Sango, Kagome's the owner of this inn."  
  
The Love Goddess smirked. "Ah, I see. Hidden feelings. Well, not to worry, Miss Kagome – I'll hook you two up just fine . . . you'll be married in no time!"  
  
Kagome blinked. "Married?"  
  
Inuyasha groaned to himself, resting his head on the table.  
  
Miroku rolled his eyes. "Wow, you're tactless, Sango."  
  
"Shut up, Kikuchi."  
  
Kagome shrugged it off casually. "Well, I don't know about marriage. Aside from the fact that I hardly know Inuyasha, I'm going through a very hectic time . . . what with my grandfather being sick and everything . . . besides, Inuyasha told me yesterday he was dying, right?" She looked at him sadly. "That would only cause more pain on his part."  
  
Miroku snickered, disguising it quickly as a cough.  
  
Sango simply smirked again, ignoring Miroku as she stared in the direction of Kagome's voice. "Well, I don't know about that. There are certain measures we can take to allow Inuyasha to live."  
  
The Death God glared at her from across the table. "Actually," he began loudly, "in this case, I think Inuyasha's death is inevitable."  
  
Kagome looked back and forth between them, laughing. "Wow, you two sound like you have some sort of bet on Inuyasha's life or something!"  
  
"We do," they answered in unison.  
  
Inuyasha shook his head, letting out a heavy sigh, his left eye twitching. It was going to be a long, long night.  
  
~  
  
Miroku peeked over Inuyasha's shoulder, grinning wickedly. "Aw, is Inuyasha keeping a diary during his last precious months on earth?"  
  
Inuyasha growled, snapping the book shut. "For your information, they're my memoirs. And no, you cannot read them."  
  
Sango leaned back on the bed casually, tapping her foot. "Oh, don't mind him, Inuyasha. Miroku's always been a nosy little bastard."  
  
"Oh, don't mind her, Inuyasha," Miroku said in a mocking, high-pitched voice. "Sango's always been a whiny little bitch."  
  
Sango scoffed and chucked her cane at him again. For a blind woman, she had pretty good aim.  
  
Inuyasha sighed, shaking his head as he turned in his chair to look at them. "Guys, could we lay off the fighting for one night? I know there's a crapload of sexual tension between you two, but it's best if you actually DO something about it. I'm going for a walk." He stood and exited the room without another word.  
  
Miroku glanced at Sango, smirking as he sat beside her, putting an arm around her waist. "Inuyasha has a point. We should do something about it."  
  
His only response was another whack to the head and a, "Shut up, Kikuchi."  
  
~  
  
Inuyasha sat down on the porch of the inn, staring up at the night sky with a wistful look on his face. He vaguely wondered if Sango would actually win the bet so that he could live. Then he wondered what would happen if Miroku won, and he were to actually die. He shuddered at the thought, lowering his gaze to the dust-covered ground, sighing.  
  
"Mind if I join you?"  
  
Kagome's soft voice interrupted his musings and he glanced up, smiling. "Sure . . . have a seat."  
  
The young girl smiled back at him as she sat, gathering her knees up to her chest. "It's nice out, isn't it?"  
  
Inuyasha nodded. "Yeah," he said softly, "though I have to wonder how much time I have left to enjoy it."  
  
Kagome's eyes softened and she sighed. "It's a shame what you're going through," she murmured. "I couldn't begin to imagine what you must be going through . . . "  
  
He shrugged. "It's not that bad."  
  
She shook her head. "It makes me think of what my grandfather must be feeling. I know he doesn't have much more time to live, either."  
  
Inuyasha shrugged, glancing away. A moment of silence passed and he frowned to himself. "Miss Kagome . . . what would you say if . . . if the only way for me to live was to fall in love?"  
  
Kagome smirked softly. "Is that what Miss Sango was saying? Does she believe love will help you live?"  
  
He chuckled softly. "Well, not just any love . . ." He tilted his head to look at her. "What I meant was . . . falling in love with you."  
  
Kagome blinked, a lovely blush spreading across her face. "Me? But . . . why me?"  
  
Inuyasha smiled. "Who knows? I guess it's fate . . . "  
  
She shivered a little, whimpering as she wrapped her arms around herself. "Inuyasha . . . what are you saying?"  
  
He smirked. "Kagome . . . would you be willing to fall in love with me?" 


	6. An Update of Sorts

HA! Bet you thought I was updating, didn't you?

All right, here's the dealy-o. -deep breath- Inuyasha…doesn't interest me anymore. I mean, I still watch it, and I still like it, but I've stopped reading and writing fics for it. The fics I have now are at a complete dead end. Going nowhere, and fast. If I updated now, it'd only make you suffer more because it'd be so crappy. However, I am leaving them up. Why? Because someday, just maybe, I'll get the urge to write for them again, and maybe update for real. But until then, all of these fics are on a permanent hiatus.

I am still writing, though. My current interest in fics lies in Phantom of the Opera, and I might write a fic or two for that, so if you like it, please read! I may also start up an account at fictionpress, so I can start writing for an original anime story of my own that I have. (If I do, I'll put the link to my account in my info.) But, the point is, don't expect anything Inuyasha for a long time.

I'm very sorry to have to break this news to you all, but trust me, it's for the better. Someday, I'm gonna update and it's gonna be an awesome chapter, I promise! Until then, please bear with me as my Inuyasha-writer's-block takes its toll.

Sorry for the inconvenience!

Sincerely,

Aki T


End file.
